at a televised event, commemorating the bicentennial of the constitution, mrs. bush met a man named j.t. pace. the 63-year-old son of a former share cropper. mr. pace, who had only recently become literate was scheduled to read the constitution's preamble aloud. backstage, he was nervous. mrs. bush asked if it would help if they read it together on the broadcast. mr. pace agree. soon, the two of them stood on stage, reading in unison. as mr. pace grew comfortable, mrs. bush lowered her voice and lowered again and then again. until at least, j.t. pace was reading entirely on his own. he wept and he read. supported by barbara bush who stood to his side now silent. her work was done when his voice spoke of the unending search for a more perfect union. j.t. pace had found his voice, not least because barbara bush had lent him her heart. just last summer, on a sunny day on the bush's porch in maine, talk turned to world war ii. and that terrible saturday september 2nd, 1944. when lieutenant junior grade george herbert walker bush was shot down on a bombing raid two o